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November 16, 2019 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
When a beloved dies, we gather like elephants to mourn the bones touching each foot ankle, femur, rib, vertebrae, shoulder, stroking the pelvis, jaw, cranium, moving each one separately...
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January 15, 2019 |
in Fiction |
admininfin8 |
0
On the one year anniversary of Allison’s assault, the garbage man—he preferred this title to “sanitation worker”— saw, as he was emptying a trash can into the dump bed of the...
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March 16, 2018 |
in Creative Nonfiction & Memoir |
admininfin8 |
0
“Oh I don’t see color… ” Please for the love of god STOP SAYING THAT! YOU DO SEE COLOR!!!! You’re supposed to, as per direct orders from the universe!...
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March 15, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
AS A GHOST I’LL MAKE SURE THAT YOU’LL KEEP ON RUNNING INTO ME BACK AND FORTH, IN SOME SHAPE AND FORM WE WILL BE…” I think she was hoping he was really a gardener....
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March 15, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
I love the rain when the rain fills the river, when the rain fills the river, and the river starts to run, and the willow branches read the braille of raindrops on the surface, and ducks,...
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January 30, 2018 |
in Creative Nonfiction & Memoir |
admininfin8 |
0
When folk singer Pete Seeger and some friends launched the Clearwater sloop nearly 50 years ago, the Hudson River was a fish-killing open sewer from industries and municipalities along...
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January 30, 2018 |
in Creative Nonfiction & Memoir |
admininfin8 |
0
One spring Saturday in York County, Pennsylvania, my husband Fred picked up a five-gallon aluminum gas can he’d left on the asphalt by our garage over the winter. I was cleaning out the...
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January 2, 2018 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
SHRINKING ISLAND (Assateague) Looking Inland, beneath A rising vapor of cumulous, An agony of trees. Beyond the killing tide, Low dunes. Here, The mosquito is queen, The island a...
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July 12, 2017 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
FOR A FRACKING GOOD TIME There is a general consensus among scientists that the spike in Oklahoma’s earthquake activity has been triggered by disposal wells used to dispose of waste from...
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June 25, 2017 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Carry me waking across the world where, in Nice, strawberries ripen in a wooden cart. The morning yawns azure beyond the fruit sellers. The Mediterranean beckons to fishermen & stones....
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May 31, 2017 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
After the lions, by the tattered aviary, we can’t help but try it — peering up and sneering at the unapproachable sky like clipped birds of prey, hopping left, then right,...
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January 10, 2017 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
You ask me why I did not pin a star beside this city or that, & my maps are gathered in graphite & not ink. Perhaps I did, & did not care to rebuild that city just yet...
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December 28, 2016 |
in Fiction |
admininfin8 |
0
We loved Mr. Pasternak before we knew what love was. He was young and good-looking, and he was the only teacher we didn’t sense secretly needing the approval or friendship of us, his...
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October 23, 2016 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
After unpinning me from the wall, head, heart, knees, feet, The left behind nail holes make a constellation of me. Under whose sky I walk out. Buzzards with their cogged wing tips gear...
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October 1, 2016 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
baby / if you were to shoot / and I left behind me a 392-foot-long trail of blood / a wedding train / a slug’s...